Nostalgia

No reason nostalgia after the early evening rain in the yellow of gold of sodium vapour homesickness with pickles in glass jars, tin lids preferred being plastic with her heart and house inside the jar and at times inside a shoe or a pumpkin or the shoe of a walking pumpkin the relatives and friends and the kith and kin  of a hosepipe and a pump that pumps water when a button is pushed pushing gushing out water to the fields of gold cold nostalgia playing yellow in your mind mellow don’t know a van that was made fun of in its prime writing songs playing harmonica and the guitar on harmless metaphysical planes of fiction pointing to itself a forefinger that is the fourth finger pointing forth and then to the back of a being boy playing a saxophone in a band dancing to bluesy tunes toothache and a rotten tooth forgotten daughters of the overwhelming night in towns of radioactivity with circuits of diodes and transistors in a head that grows a fake plastic tree free of any water and life dim wit Neolithic age of bronze and brassiere chemise selling pills and concoctions bubbling on three stones cauldrons with names of witches on them waving their wands at the sea willing them ordering them to wave back at least send one or two at them beaches peaches growing on branches swaying sandy beaches clocks mistaken for wineglasses having sex having lost the places they need to be held at or by and the missing discs have slipped away and no one mentions the surgery of a story till the finest first knot that was ever cast after the dice were thrown three sixes and a half in a row sixing the cherry six and the city all around under the careful vigilance of Batman who stands on top of the tallest tower in town casting bat shadows signals upside down and it’s only Spiderman who seems to read the signals right tight on these lips that are sealed to hold in the secrets about holes that are holed in with zippers at their edges opening one grain of metal at a time